


Breathe Deep (that calm before the storm)

by Araceil



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (But with a twist), Action, Adventure, Astral Mythology, BAMF Cor, BAMF Harry, Comedy, Drama, Gay Disasters, Hexathion Mythology, M/M, Marriage Hunt, Mutual Pining, Not Quite Slowburn, Romance, So much worldbuilding, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stalking, Thriller, Worldbuilding, alternative universe, but somehow still Slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26256865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araceil/pseuds/Araceil
Summary: Hunter - the individual who initially decides to partake on finding their soulmate.Found - the individual who is found by the Hunter.Marked/Matched - the term for an individual with a matching soulmate mark.The Hunt is an ancient tradition held in three parts, the Pursuit, in which the Hunter must capture their Marked while on foot with only what weapons and equipment they can both carry. The Summer Trial, in which the Hunter must live and work with the Found for a period of a year, meeting first friends, then family, and then presenting a courting gift to their Found based on what they have learned. And lastly, the Winter Trial, in which the Found goes to live and work with the Hunter for a year and meets their family and friends.At twenty, Cor put off his Hunt, focused on the fallout of the end of the war, of King Mors' own successful Hunt. At twenty-five, he has made his arrangements and left Insomnia to find his soulmate.But as they say - no plan survives first contact with the enemy.No plan survives contact with Harry Potter.
Relationships: Cor Leonis & Cid Sophiar, Cor Leonis/Harry Potter, Dave Auburnbrie & Harry Potter
Comments: 218
Kudos: 1161
Collections: Ashes' Library, Unfinished FFXV to watch





	1. Chapter 1

Like many in Insomnia, Cor had a soulmate. He had never met them, also like many in Insomnia.

You had to work for your soulmate. You had to find them, challenge them, earn them, and then claim them as they claimed you. The Astrals did not _give_ you anything. The marks were only guidance. Everyone knew that you needed to Hunt your soulmate, you had to see them through their best and their worst before you could be sure that you could build a life with them, because a Bond once forged could not be broken. The world was not kind, and the Hunt was as old as the Astrals themselves, a tradition to prove that you were worthy of even _having_ your soulmate. If you did it right, if you knew deeply in your heart of hearts that _yes this is my Light_ then the Astrals would bless your union and Bond you together. Mind, body, and soul.

Insomnia was still isolated and insulated after the war, people were slow to change. He dreaded to think how people would behave and act when it came to the Hunt if the Wall were still up – he still heard people muttering about how such things were _uncivilised_. Not that they would say such out loud any longer. Truly, the greatest Hunt to have happened in the modern era was when the King of Lucis, Mors Lucis Caelum, discovered his soulmate was the Niflheim _Emperor,_ Iedolas Aldercapt.

The Astrals, if nothing else, most certainly made them work for their happy ending.

Having to surpass a four hundred year old war, the undead daemon infested form of the Founder King's elder brother, and the machinations of one of the _Draconian himself_ seeking to destroy all of Eos in a test for humanity.

Cor's head still spun when he thought about it and he had _been_ there.

Been there, fought a God, survived against all odds, earned the nickname 'Immortal' (he was going to kill Clarus for that), and now, at twenty five had finally found a trace of his soulmate.

Supposedly in the S-ranked Hunter of the Meldacio Hunter Organisation, Harry Potter.

Someone they had been forced to create a new classification of Hunter _for_ when he stood at the mouth of Steyliff Grove and killed every single daemon that poured out from its one-hundred floored Vaults. Alone. Even the very fiend itself that killed the Oracle of the Oracle King, that he could not defeat himself.

Learning through the Army grapevine that he bore _Cor's_ mark across his back was really to be expected at that point – the number of people that commented ' _of fucking course_ ' when they heard the rumour would have been insulting if he hadn't _agreed_ with them. Because of course his Soulmate was going to be just as dangerous as he was, just as accomplished if in different ways. But to go on a Hunt before he was twenty was not permissible, and unfortunately at the time he had been knee-deep in the reverberating backlashes from King Mors' Hunt and opted to place his own on hold to do his duty. But now he was twenty five, he had arranged everything, had seen Regis through his coronation, trained his protection detail, witnessed his marriage, the birth of Clarus' own son to the woman arranged for him, obtained the blessings of not only all of his friends, but also the Emperor and King Mors.

Anticipating a difficult Hunt (no soulmate of his would make this easy, _he_ certainly wouldn't), he took one of the older cars from the Citadel, one that he was certain he could get replacement parts and appropriate fuel for out in Lucis proper. He purchased his supplies and carried them separately. This was a _Hunt_. He would not be using magic on it, not even to store his food or drunk, not when his soulmate had not sworn the same vows to the King. They would face one another as equals.

Predictably, word got out that he was on a Hunt and the press in Insomnia went ballistic trying to find out who it was. Images of his mark were not hard to find. Hiding ones mark generally wasn't done, it made the Hunt very difficult. Only those who had devoted themselves wholly to the Astrals, or had _lost_ their soulmates, marks vanishing to forewarn of that soul leaving the world, would cover their marks. Now that he was on Hunt, he would be expected to display his mark at all times until he obtained the blessing of the Astrals and earned his soulmate.

If they found out who it was, he didn't know. He was already half-way to Cid's in Leide.

* * *

Cid, of course, took one look at him, scoffed, and dragged him to the diner that one of his friends had opened up, ordering enough food to put a catoblpas into a coma, and asked him if he knew who he was looking for. Cor nodded, digging into his meal with determination, he wasn't going to have much of a chance to eat later according to all accounts. Every Hunt was different, but a lot of the people he had spoken to laughed about how often times it was the need to eat that eventually tripped them up – ' _the way to your Matched's heart was through their stomach_ ' was a saying for a reason.

“So. Who is it?” Cid demanded, weather-beaten, craggy, but sharp eyed and intent like all people who had undertaken a Hunt. “Must be well known if they're _yours_.”

“Hunter by the name of Potter,” he explained, and had the dubious pleasure of seeing Cid straighten up and both his mouth and his eyes open wide, a moment before he cackled so hard he ended up choking on his own laughter and dissolving into a coughing fit so violent that the skittish chef rushed over thinking he was actually choking. Cor waited him out, steadily working his way through his extra large chilli and fries. He would have to bring Potter by on their way back to Insomnia (if their marks matched).

“Good _luck_ ,” Cid coughed with glee, “Yer gunna _need_ it.”

Cor would have taken offence, but Cid knew him and apparently knew Potter, so really, all he could do was take the advice and look forward to what was coming. He did like a challenge.

* * *

It took three weeks to actually track Potter down.

Starting with Cid, he then moved to Meldacio, reasoning that his soulmate would remain close to his home-base of operations, only to learn that he had not been to Meldacio itself for almost ten years. He stood in stalwart defence of the settlement in the Vesperpool but refused to go anywhere near it. Stubborn and unforgiving as always, Madam Auburnbrie complained with something almost like regret and respect in her voice.

From there he went to Lestallum, seeking information.

He almost wanted to be annoyed by the fact that Potter didn't have a set territory like other hunters, he was always on the move, always working. He was well thought of by the hunters he spoke to but whenever they found out he was on the Hunt they got a bit... odd. Alarmed, confused, suspicious, one or two made a point of circling him to get a look at his mark, which only ramped up some of the alarm. He didn't know why, he was displaying his mark opening as he should.

That was when he found out that someone was already Hunting Potter, and had been for the last four months. The problem was, Potter kept himself covered at all times, and his Hunter refused to let anyone see his mark, stating only his Found was permitted to see it, the problem there being that Potter was very good at playing hard to get.

Cor would have given up there, bowed out as clearly the rumours were false but Dave Auburnbrie was eventually called in as the only reliable witness to Potter's mark by one of the more suspicious hunters who did _not trust_ the Hunter currently pursuing Potter. Auburnbrie was the one to teach the confused fifteen year old how to hunt, wield a knife and a gun, and was the only one aside from his Aunt to have ever seen the mark on Potter's back. It took a day for the man to show up astride his motorbike, but he took one look at the bared display on Cor's back before nodding firmly and confirming his right. His expression was very carefully blanked, but Cor had not made it to Marshal of the Crownsguard without being able to read murderous rage in even the calmest of men. Dave Auburnbrie was radiating a very dangerous sort of calm. The kind that heralded bloodshed.

One of the hunters snorted in dark amusement, “You've been telling Catnip for weeks he's not allowed to kill him, and now you're gunna do it yourself. I can _taste_ the bitch face even now,” he laughed.

“I knew it was weird he wouldn't show his whole mark,” one of the women growled, impressive biceps flexing in the early morning sun as she readjusted her rifle. She looked to one of her companions who sighed and lifted his hands defensively.

“I got as good a look as I could at the bastard! You know Harry hates having a lot of skin exposed! They really did look similar, there were definitely wings and a long pale line! Besides, who the hell _lies_ about their mark?” he demanded plaintively, disgusted as he shook his head and looked at Cor who was patiently waiting for an explanation. “Four months ago a guy showed up on the Hunt. Claimed that Harry was his Matched. Harry doesn't know fuck all about the Hunt, his family kept him ignorant about everything like that, real heretics that lot. It's been four months and the guy's been on Pursuit the whole time without success.” Looks were exchanged and Cor saw the way Auburnbrie's hands clenched hard enough for veins to bulge on his forearms. Disregarding how promising it sounded for a Pursuit to have lasted _four months_.....

Hunting someone that wasn't your soulmate was.... not done.

Ever.

At least by reasonable, sane people. Stalking was common, sad as it was to say, broken relationships and overly coercive behaviour, yes it happened. But no one attempted to force or fake a Hunt without there being _something_ twisted about their mind.

The fact that Potter didn't know Hunt customs and likely hadn't verified his Hunter's mark against his own meant that he hadn't even consented to the Hunt, didn't have proof that the one pursuing him really was his soulmate, and hadn't agreed to be claimed at the end of his Challenge.

A Hunt without consent, without agreement, was just stalking. Was, at its most basic, a form of torture.

No wonder Auburnbrie wanted to murder someone. Cor wasn't far off it either.

* * *

It was somewhat gratifying to have the first thing he saw his soulmate do in the flesh was grab a man by his head and _bounce_ his skull off the sturdy wooden table he was sat at.

Dave was fast, and didn't have to wrestle with any car doors like Cor. He didn't even bother with the kick-stand for his bike, just let it drop to the side of the road in a way that Cid would have snarled over, and went for the howling guy cradling his face with a roar of anger. Unfortunately, Potter was quick to separate the two though.

“Dave, what the hell?” he demanded, Tenebraean accent cutting his words into something sharp.

The hunter ignored the smaller man and instead grabbed the bleeding one by the back of his shirt, shoving him down, bent double, and yanked his shirt up with swift ruthlessness - exposing his back and his Mark.

The bleeding man came alive like a viper and yanked a knife, shrieking hysterically, twisting and bucking as he tried to thrust it into the hunter's stomach.

Potter was faster though, grabbing the knife with a small grunt and kneeing him hard enough in the chest that he immediately bent double and vomited on both of their shoes. He crumpled like tissue paper, falling weakly to his knees, coughing and gagging as Dave continued to wrench his clothing up off his back to reveal his mark completely.

A noose. A noose around the neck of a dove with its wings raised in flight.

 _That_ was not a particularly happy Mark, nor an auspicious one. And he clearly knew his mark didn't match Potter's by his reaction and quiet moaning refusals.

And speaking of.

Potter eyed the mark and sniffed, unsurprised, as he turned his attention away to examine the slash through his hand with a scowl.

“So what brought this on?” the Tenebraean asked, looking at Auburnbrie who was breathing harder than a dualhorn in a rage. “You've been telling me not to cause him permanent harm for months only to come storming in like you'd kill him yourself. What changed?” he asked lightly, not paying the large number of people milling around, drawn by the drama of a forced mark-reveal in a Hunt, any mind at all.

Auburnbrie jerked a hand in Cor's direction, “Mark Hunter,” he grunted roughly. “He matches you. Which means _this_ piece of _daemon-spawn_ doesn't, and _lied_.”

Gasps and murmurs went up amongst the on-lookers as Potter eyed him over Auburnbrie's shoulder.

Cor obligingly turned to display his mark.

A simple well made black and silver katana, Kotetsu, the blade he had replaced Genji with upon losing it to the Blademaster in the Tempering Ground. Rising from the hilt, two silvery white wings, and a golden star.

It was polite and to be expected that if you went on the Hunt you would have your mark displayed so that people would know you were dedicated to your matched. Cor had made sure to pack several backless shirts and tops for that purpose. Tradition was important, and he didn't want to disrespect himself, Regis, King Mors, _or_ his soulmate by not giving this the levity or importance it deserved.

When he turned around, Potter had turned away and slumped down on his chair, hand up to his forehead.

“I – cannot – deal with this right now,” he sighed weakly.

Auburnbrie didn't notice, or seem to care much beyond dragging the stalker away to be thrown into whatever passed for a drunk-tank around here. No doubt he would handle finding out who and where he came from and take things from there, but it left Cor and his Matched in a sticky public situation.

“May I sit?” he asked, heading over and stopping at the table.

Potter waved him on, but he remained standing. Auburnbrie's entourage had told him that Potter was unfamiliar with Lucian Mark Culture, so he wouldn't be doing anything without the hunter's expressed verbal agreement. Something that he had to wait a further thirty seconds for until the hunter realised he hadn't moved and looked up at him with tired green eyes and frowned.

“...Yes. Fine. Sit down. Sorry, I'm not particularly good company at this time of year,” he sighed again sitting up straight and facing him properly as he took the seat opposite.

It gave him the chance to observe the man properly.

From what he'd picked up from Auburnbrie and the other hunters, Potter was the same age as him, but he didn't look it. Both of them had faced their stressors from the war, but while Cor tended to look older than his years and always had done by virtue of his height and build, Potter looked some years younger, for the same reasons. The wide eyes and small mouth did not help. He had long black hair, pulled into a high ponytail at the back of his head, his glasses were worn with a strap that went beneath his hair tie, his face was scarred, jagged lines from his forehead down his eye and cheek. His features were sharp but upon a closer look he seemed _tired_. His eyes were shadowed and there were faint lines of tension around both his mouth and his eyes that suggested more time being unhappy than the opposite. He wore the typical hunting leathers and vest of most Meldacio operatives in subdued shades of brown, green, and dark red. He was also incredibly _armed_. The number of knives he had hidden on his person that Cor could see at a cursory glance was not insignificant, and would have been incredibly suspicious if he hadn't known the difficulties that Besithia had been causing in the region since he split from Niflheim.

“This time of year?” Cor echoed curiously, patiently.

Potter looked at him carefully, seemingly weighing him before looking down and seeming to sag a little. Too tired, he would wager, to bother with lying. “I didn't come to Lucis willingly or purposefully. It was an accident. And after ten years of trying to find a way home, or for someone to come and find me, I think I'm entitled to be depressed on the anniversary of losing everyone I ever knew and loved,” he explained flatly with a bitter half-smile as he picked up the bottle of warm beer and drained it with a grimace of disgust.

Something for him to bear in mind then. One way or the other. This was a bad time of year. Either it would mean Potter accepted his Hunt, and that could make him more vicious or more apathetic. Or he would reject it because he didn't have the emotional capacity for it – whether it would be a complete rejection or a request for stand-by was his choice. Cor would request the stand-by, if only because he was emotionally compromised right now. But if it was a complete rejection when he returned then.... that was that. Hunt over. He would return to Insomnia alone. Sad, but, these things happened. If he accepted and things worked out the way Cor wished them to, it would be a time of year he would have to remember to be aware of to properly support his spouse through.

“I see. I can come back another time if you would prefer?” he offered, and saw immediately that it had been the unexpectedly better thing to say when the hunter huffed half of a grateful smile at him.

“Better not. Or I'll do nothing but sit here and brood until I get shit faced,” he concluded with uncomfortable self-awareness. Good. Being aware of your flaws was just as important as being aware of your skills. “You obviously know who I am if you're looking for me. But I don't know you, or why you're here. Care to share?” he asked calmly even as he gestured one of the hovering waitresses over.

“What can I get you two?” she asked eagerly, looking between them with excitement.

“Water and the chicken skewers for me, please,” Potter requested before gesturing at Cor, “Order what you want. I'll pay. As thanks for cluing Dave into that moron.”

He requested the same and waited for her to leave before facing Potter properly. “My name is Cor Leonis. As Auburnbrie mentioned earlier, I'm on a Mark Hunt, and you're my match.” He saw the way the hunter tensed and shook his head, “He also said that you weren't raised to know the culture around Hunts and marks, so I would like to speak to you before anything is officially concluded between us. If, after the explanations and talks, you decide you don't want to participate on the Hunt, then I will return home and not bother you again. I know your experience that person earlier will have likely not endeared you to the idea and that's understandable.”

Potter studied him with razor sharp eyes, thinking hard. “....Just like that? If I say I'm not interested you'll just walk away? Even though soulmates are such a big deal out here?” he asked suspiciously.

“They aren't as big as you've likely been lead to believe,” he corrected gently, “Until recently many with Marks were completely unable to go on Hunt to find their match due to the war. That's almost four hundred years of people still finding love and happiness, building families and lives, without ever finding the one that has the same mark as them. With the war ended, and the Wall down, the opportunity to find your match has never been so prevalent in the public mind. Most people are taking the opportunity with both hands, and others are too scared to do so but desperately desire to. It's a mixed bag.” Potter hummed and leaned back in his seat, clearly thinking it over and comparing it to his own experiences. He bobbed his head from side to side in unhappy acknowledgement, nose wrinkling slightly. Cor felt his mouth twitch a little. It was cute. “It would definitely be upsetting, yes. You are my match. Meaning that any relationship we build will likely be better suited to us than others. We would be equals and opposites in a complimentary fashion so to speak. However, that doesn't mean we can't find just as fulfilling relationships elsewhere and with other people.” He shifted in his seat and swallowed down the faint sting of heat of embarrassment he felt to actually admit that – “I am unfortunately a little bit of a romantic and would prefer the opportunity to try and build something with my matched. If you're willing to hear me out.”

Their food showed up and Potter took the chance to sip his water thoughtfully.

“....That.... is more reassuring to hear than I think you realise,” he admitted after a lengthy pause. “Thank you for the honesty.”

Cor inclined his head and dug into his skewers. Until he received confirmation of rejection, he was going to eat as though a Hunt _would_ happen (he was being hopelessly optimistic, he knew).

They ate a few skewers in silence as Potter ruminated on his words.

“Neither Dave or Kimya explained much about the whole.... process. And I'm now finding out that this whole 'Hunt' thing that Kote was doing before wasn't right. So, explain it to me. What is the Hunt, how does it work out, and what happens after?” Potter asked, “And I will be double-checking with others before I give you an answer, so don't lie.”

Part of him wanted to be offended, but then he saw the still bloody cut on the hunter's hand and shoved the thought aside.

* * *

As far as unexpected hurdles to face, he didn't think having to explain the process behind a Hunt would be one of them. He probably should have thought of it though, to be honest. Accordo no longer held the Hunt what so ever, their process for matching Marks was via electronic database that citizens could access and use to find their Matches. They would input a contact request and the government would ascertain whether their Marks matched and then provide a contact address – people would then be left to their own devices to sort themselves out. No one really followed the old methods much anymore beyond the courting gifts, it used to be in Accordo that people could go diving for them, and the deeper they were able to go and the rarer their find, the more important the gift. Other methods of impressing their Marked involved combat in the Colosseum, with for and _against_ their Marked sometimes. There were _many_ romantic stories involving Accordian Colosseum fights involving ancient emperors and priestesses of the Leviathan's Ordo, and who knew what else. Cor wasn't one for reading that kind of stuff, he just had to deal with Regis and Weskham arguing plotlines and prose for hours on their pilgrimage.

But Potter was an attentive listener, and sharply intuitive in a way he was somewhat unused to. He worked with incredibly intelligent and perceptive people, but Potter picked things up very quickly in his explanations and drew incredibly accurate conclusions with very little that he almost wanted to offer the man a job.

“So,” the hunter concluded after his explanations, “This Hunt is three parts, the Pursuit, the Summer Trial, and the Winter Trial, all of which is based on the story of the two Astrals Ifrit and Shiva who originally gave humanity their markings. The Trials each last a year and are basically living and working together, one year with me, and one year with you, but first is the Pursuit which is... basically what it says on the tin, you chase me like an animal,” he concluded dubiously with an arched eyebrow.

Cor didn't grimace, but it was a near thing, “At its most boiled down and offensive terminology, yes. Might not want to say that too loudly.”

Potter just hummed as he traced symbols in the sticky sauce that had been on his chicken skewers across the plate with the dirty wooden stick. “Yes, yes. It's all symbolism about how Ifrit pursued Shiva around the planet, creating the seasons before catching her and accidentally branding her with his handprint when their magic clashed. So in apology he allowed her the same courtesy and thus the first soulmarks were created,” he recited a little dismissively, frowning at him. “My concern with that is a Pursuit sounds like something that could get very violent very quickly. There _has_ been four hundred years of war, not to mention fiends and daemons. I doubt everyone partaking in this tradition is exactly a shining bastion of mental health and stability. Astrals know _I_ am not.”

“That's what the initial negotiations are for,” the Insomnian explained before sipping his water. “We don't see our Matched and immediately chase them like a rabid dog.”

“Could have fooled me,” Potter muttered with a bitter scowl.

Cor grimaced and gestured at the waitress to bring some more water for them.

“What you had to deal with was out of the norm. That _isn't_ how things are supposed to be done. First we need to confirm that our marks match, if either one of us has doubts then we bring in three people to examine and verify it, someone you trust, someone I trust, and someone neither of us know. Once the Mark is confirmed by both of us as Matching, then we talk about whether or not you're in a position to take part in a Hunt. As the Hunter, I've had the time to set my affairs in order, you haven't. Thus it's ultimately _your_ choice whether or not this goes ahead, and in what way,” he explained as he finished his water off and nodded to the waitress as she returned with an entire jug. He poured himself another as he continued to explain, “People who can't perform a Hunt due to injuries, or responsibilities, can arrange for a different sort of Challenge. It is up to them to decide for themselves and know their own limits. If you were to agree to the Hunt, we would sit down and discuss what is and is not permitted on the Pursuit. It can be anything as simple as ' _Pinning my arms above my head is not allowed_ ', to ' _Pursuit in a town is not permitted_ ', or ' _Pursuit at night is not allowed_ '. Once we have agreed to as many or as few rules as we feel needed, we select a location. If the Hunter manages to get their Found to that location then they are considered to have succeeded at the Hunt, if the Found decide they approve of the Hunter ahead of that time then that is also a Success. However, if _either_ the Found or the Hunter decide they disapprove, they can make their own way there and formally reject the Hunt at that location.” He looked at the hunter steadily, “You can reject the Hunt at any time. For any reason. I will accept it, no matter what, but I would ask for an explanation all the same. Once a location is agreed on, we eat, gather our belongings and walk to opposite ends of the town. Pursuit must be done on foot, hence why many who have suffered injuries choose a different way, and everything we use must be carried on us. Then.... you run. And I follow.”

The hunter had a distant look on his face, as if remembering something as he nodded slowly. “And anything goes outside what was pre-discussed.”

“Yes.”

“And when the Pursuit is concluded, and we both approve, you then spend the next year with me, living with me and working with me, yes?” he asked slowly, looking at Cor seriously.

He nodded, “Yes. During the year I'm to meet your friends, then your family, and then present you with an appropriate courting gift based on what I have learned of you. If you accept, then we begin making arrangements for the next Trial, setting your affairs in order for you to spend the next year with me. The same process repeats, but you will be meeting my friends and family instead. At the end of both Trials, we can decide to Bond wholly and get marry, but if you need further time, there is the Contemplation Period where we are separated completely and given time to think of the future and decide what we want. If you opt to reject the Hunt then.... that will be that. The Astrals will remove your Mark at the next New Moon and I will never bother you again.”

Potter nodded again, slowly and thoughtfully, not looking really looking _at_ him so much as _through_ him.

There was a long pause that he forced himself not to fidget through, not to show his anxiety or rising disappointment. If he returned to Insomnia alone then.... well, not only was the press going to have a field day but he would have to deal with Regis and Clarus doing their 'older brother' routine. He was self aware enough to know that while he might have sexual relationships here and there, he had never really bothered trying to build something with any of them because he had always believed that his heart was already reserved. If he was rejected then..... it was likely he wouldn't ever try again. Not really. His soulmate was really the only one he could conceive as accepting that his dedication and loyalty to Regis came first and wouldn't grow bitter, or hold it against him.

“Three days,” Potter suddenly declared firmly. Looking up at him with hard eyes. “Give me three days to think this over and deal with my current contracts. I've.... spent the last decade just surviving in this place, waiting for when I'll leave it. I need some time to decide whether or not I want to stay and.... try to build a life here, or continue as I am, and wait to go home. Meet me here, and.... I'll have an answer for you.”

Three days.

“I can do that,” Cor agreed quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Brain Raccoon started screaming and......... this fucking happened?
> 
> I dunno, I think it just wanted to worldbuild a Marriage/soulmate Hunt type thing that wasn't rape-y as fuck because I found some damn good fics but........ god. I felt very uncomfortable reading them XDD;;;; I think I began this as a kind of mental self-defence.
> 
> *fist in hand* So this is why my brain doesn't shut up about rewriting ABO tropes. It's trying to self-defence worldbuild it away from being awful. Well, I have learned something new about myself today lolol
> 
> Hope you guys have enjoyed the first chapter! 8)


	2. Chapter 2

Soulmates..... what a weird world.

Harry's mind was only half occupied by chasing down the troublesome Raging Kujata, one of the new variants of fiend that had been popping up with increasing frequency since the end of the war. Were he a more suspicious man, he would have laid the blame at Niflheim, just because their Emperor was smitten with the Lucian King didn't mean his people followed suit. Four hundred years of war was no easy thing to overcome, and Niflheim's military were well known for their.... dubious experiments. (Astrals knew how often he himself had been forced to make some quick escapes whenever they discovered him near-by and sent who knew how many magitek infantry to try and extract him – Besithia had a real bee in his bonnet over Harry and he had no idea why.)

The other half was occupied by the current clusterfuck of his life.

When Kote showed up claiming to be his soulmate he hadn't known what to expect but everything about him made all the hair on his arms stand on end with discomfort. There was just _something_ about the guy that was deeply and viscerally uncomfortable – Harry wasn't exactly as ignorant of Hunt culture as he led everyone to believe, he just _aggressively ignored it_. If he pretended he didn't, then people were less interested in bothering him about it and he could be left to get on with his life as he wished. It wasn't that he had been opposed to the idea of soulmates, Harry was... embarrassing as it was to admit at this point in his life, very lonely. He was lonely, and barely keeping his head above the sea-level of depression as it became more and more obvious that.... he wasn't going to go home, that no one was looking for him, that no one was coming for him. If Kote hadn't set off every single instinct he had, he very well may have accepted the Hunt purely for a chance to _not be alone_.

But he hadn't accepted, hadn't actually refused either thinking about it. Just said he didn't believe him and left to go and complete his hunt.

And the guy chased him, followed him, he would wake up in a caravan to find him lurking, watching him sleep. Wake up in the middle of the night to someone trying to get into his motel room. Spot him moving around in the dark at a haven if he was camped out but never come close – _that_ had been what freaked him out most. The enchantments on the havens were there to protect the people on them, they didn't allow aggressive fiends or daemons anywhere near them. Humans, chocobos, other docile and calm creatures could get onto a haven and be safe. If a human couldn't get onto an already occupied haven, that meant they didn't have good intentions towards the people already there.

Then there were the moments after a fight when he would come almost out of nowhere and run at him, trying to attack him. He was pathetically easy to drop, no pain tolerance, and he got all teary and Dudley levels of tantrum-y whenever it happened, so Harry just tended to walk away and leave him there after the first time he tried to comfort the guy and nearly lost an ear for his efforts.

Everyone was so happy for him when word somehow got out that he was being Hunted, and as the time piled up they got more excited and he was just.... so tired. He did try to sit down and express his worries to one of the girls but, she was so caught up in the 'romance' of it, of his soulmate being so absolutely determined, it felt like he was talking to a wall, so he stopped bothering.

Then today happened.

Dave coming out of nowhere to bullrush Kote to the floor and force him to reveal the.... frankly upsetting image on his back.

Golmore had seen _part_ of that marking in the early says, and everyone who hadn't _seen_ Harry's mark knew that there was a sword and wings on his back because Kimya had _loudly_ explained that there was no official symbolism behind marks, just that they represented the people to be bound together. The question was, was Harry the sword or the wings?

Looking at Kote, it was easy to guess that he was the _noose_.

Then someone _else_ showed up looking to Hunt him, but this one was.... the first thing he did was show that yes they had the same mark and then patiently wait until the whole thing with Kote was handled before asking if they could talk. Harry wasn't one to be taken in by a pretty face. He had seen more than his fair share in life, fucked a few when he was at his lowest and just wanted to feel like he mattered to _someone_. A handsome man was not enough to get his interest, but it was the way he held himself and moved, the steady sharp look in his eyes. _That_ was a lot more compelling than a pretty face.

He was listening to what Harry had to say, considering it carefully, and only speaking when he knew what he wanted to say. Overall, Harry's impression of this Cor Leonis was that he was _steady_. If Harry was likened to an unstoppable force, then he was most definitely the immovable object. But only in some respects. Given what Harry knew of the Hunts, the explanation he gave was.... a lot kinder than Harry had been expecting, a lot more respectful, a lot _less_ traumatic. The living together thing was new. From what he'd gathered most of the time when the Hunt concluded the one who lost was picked up and carted back home to be the little wife in a caveman-like scenario. (Dave smacked him upside the head hard enough to stagger him when he commented on that while Phon cracked up laughing so hard he had to stop and lean against a tree for a bit. It wasn't _Harry's_ fault that the only people he had to ask about this shit were primarily teenage girls! They weren't going to think too deep on the whole 'my family thought it was obscene so I don't understand [x]'!)

In terms of a working system... it was actually pretty good. He wasn't so sure about the 'Pursuit' part of it, but he had heard of stranger and more upsetting customs back home on _Earth_ , so he didn't really have much of a place to judge, especially when it was very much built into their creation mythos, and they had gone out of their way to install at least some manner of 'control' aspect to it with the negotiations beforehand. Him spending a year with Harry in _his_ space, where his friends and family would be keeping an eye on things, where Harry had control over where they stayed and what not.... Cor was putting a lot of trust/faith in him. Taking a real big gamble. But he supposed.... that was partially what the Pursuit was also about? You could get a lot of information about a person's limits when you hunt them down like that, stress them, see what kind of tactics they use, what lines they draw.

Besides, it wasn't like Harry wouldn't have to do the same thing in the Winter Trial when he would go to where-ever it was that _Cor_ lived and spend a year with him there. He was going to have to put _his_ trust in the man for that, especially since.... he got the feeling that Cor probably _wasn't_ from Lucis proper. They would have run into each other before now if he were. There wasn't a settlement in Lucis that Harry _hadn't_ been into, even the Niflheim bases.

So, while he couldn't find anything particularly objectionable about the Hunt. It was what it _meant_ that he was struggling with.

Accepting it meant that he was willing to settle down, was willing to at least see how a relationship could work out. Potentially a marriage.

It meant accepting that he would not be going home, and trying to build one here.

It meant giving up on Sirius, Dumbledore, the Wizarding World, his friends, everyone. Every _thing_ he had clung to so tightly for the last ten years.

That.... that was the part he was struggling with.

Giving up had never been part of his vocabulary, but as the years continued to pass, as he and Kimya left Meldacio, when she was caught in that Niflheim gas attack, when she left him in the dead of night and vanished with nothing more than a clumsily written note telling him to live his life and that she was sorry for putting the responsibility of her well being on him.........

He sighed, leaning back against the corpse of the Kujata to think, turning his face up to the sky as it started to rain, a cold wind picking up and carrying the distant sound of thunder. Nightfall would be earlier than usual tonight, not that it was a problem for him, but the rest of the team were fiend specialists, not daemon specialists like him. They would have to pack it up and get a move on faster than usual.

He shouldered the Fatal Assault III, the latest in the long line of mobile _rifle-cannons_ that Rudolph in Lestallum made for him, and went to go and get his hands dirty. At least, that was what he intended right before he felt the blood of the beast on his fingers, and smelt how putrid it was – how much like daemon _miasma_ it smelt like. He wasn't the only one to notice either. After a little back and forth, they decided to burn the corpse after harvesting the non-edibles such as the hooves, horns, teeth, and fur. No one wanted to risk catching something to harvest the bones so they were written off as an unfortunate loss before everyone packed up and headed back to town.

Cor and his fancy car had left, which – was a bit of a relief, he wasn't going to lie. He really did need those three days to get himself sorted out even if he knew he could get all of his hunts squared away by lunch tomorrow.

Everyone got their money and split it out between them for the hunt, they sold the carves and settled at the restaurant for something to eat, loud and rowdy as usual. Harry couldn't really find it in himself to laugh at their normal antics, or take part like he normally would have. He took his beer and quietly vacated the rowdy collective. The sun had gone down leaving the Cauthess Rest Area both dim and glaring, the warehouses had their flood-lights going, but elsewhere the town was showing its age and the toll of the war on it. He ignored the milling people as they moved around, the couple hiding behind the diner who were a little too involved with each other to notice him as he rounded the block of flats to sit down in the dark and the quiet.

His life had boiled down to one choice now.

Move on or keep waiting.

Change or carry on as normal.

A small desperate part of him, that eleven year old little boy who had just been introduced to a new world, that had been saved from the Dursleys, insisted on waiting. That Dumbledore would find him. That Sirius would never give up. That Ron and Hermione would wait for him.

But a larger, more bitter and hurt one, just repeated ten years. Over and over again. Ten years. He had been _waiting_ for them for longer than he had ever _known_ them. Right now. Today even. He had been in this world for _twice as long as he had ever been in the Wizarding World_. And the absolutely _galling_ thing about it, the part that hurt, that dug its nails in, that whispered cruelties and evils into his ears night after wretched lonely night was that _despite_ that loneliness, regardless of the days he spent hiking around dangerous open plains and monster infested forests....

He had been happier here for those ten years than he had been in the wizarding world.

And that felt like a _betrayal_ of his parents, of Sirius. Of their deaths and the twelve years his godfather spent in prison for a crime he didn't commit, of the years spent on the run risking his neck for Harry just in case he _might_ be needed. It felt like.... like something to be ashamed of.

And it sat heavy and sour and _cold_ in the pit of his stomach as he drank his beer and stared up at the unfamiliar-familiar constellations above him. The formation of stars that he had already mapped out, that he had examined with a telescope and written who knew how many notebooks regarding, now within the hands of Doctor Jaeger, along with all of his translations and studies of the various Solheim ruins he'd found. Harry didn't have the space for them, and couldn't risk Niflheim getting hold of them.

If he stayed, he could have an actual house, and get them back. Rewrite them into actual thesis, submit them to other academics.

...Have a family?

He had always wanted a family, large or small, he just....

he was so tired. So heartsick. Of being alone.

But could he really just.... throw in the towel and give up on the last ten years because someone showed up and _wanted_ him? Wanted a _chance_ with him? What if Harry took this step and decided to try and in the end it was _Cor_ who decided that Harry wasn't good enough for him? That they were a bad fit and he didn't want to marry or bond or whatever it was? What if Harry put his heart out there and Cor handed it back before he walked away?

He – he didn't think he could handle that.

Not completely. It would hurt in ways that he couldn't even imagine. It would break something inside him that the Dursleys hadn't managed to, that Hogwarts hadn't.

In the end, he couldn't come to a resolution. He crawled into the bunk he was sharing with one of the other hunters, there were too many of them now in Cauthess for everyone to get their own bed so he and Dave ended up stripping out of their armour and weapons and just sprawling together like they had when Harry was sixteen and heartbroken after Kimya left him. Dave was pretty much the closest being he had ever had in his life to a brother. Harry wondered if he would even have to introduce Cor to him during the Summer Trial, or if Dave counted as friend or family....? Harry didn't exactly have any family here afterall.

The next day he set out to fulfil the remaining two fiend hunts he had on his docket. They were regular run of the mill fiends and they brought the whole corpses back to be rendered down for meat and furs, Harry took a few of the newly made leather scraps and off-cuts to patch his gear with and settled in for a night of sewing while chewing over his problem.

Eventually....

He realised was it all boiled down to one question: Could he handle living like this for much longer? Having no place to go, no one to turn to, living out of a backpack, fighting every day just to have money to eat?

No. No he couldn't. Just the thought of it....

He sighed as he finished sewing the large clawed open rents in his long leather coat up, fingers smoothing over the elder coeurl fur lining. A lot of the fur had worn away in the last ten years, but it was still the best piece of clothing he owned, this ankle length brown leather trenchcoat lined with white fur. Quietly he got to his feet and pulled it on, making sure it had settled properly and the harder and thicker pieces of leather lining that he used as minor armour hadn't been disturbed and still sat correctly. Satisfied, he paid for his meal and left the Kenny Crow, going into the caravan where he changed and crawled into the bunk he was sharing with Dave.

He drew the curtains across and buried his face into the pillow.

Decision made as the last ten years finally came crumbling down.

* * *

That morning, Harry ate well, and gave both his guns and the Fatal Assault to Dave for safe-keeping. Guns were his preference, but they didn't exactly come with a non-lethal setting as standard. And if he didn't have the time to mix up any sleep or tranq shot then he was going to be shit out of luck. Best not to have it weigh him down really.

One of the girls provided him with two backless shirts to show off the mark even though he was largely certain he was going to be wearing his trenchcoat the majority of the time because he was certainly _not_ going to make this easy. This guy wanted him? He was going to have to work for it. Hunting wasn't easy or safe and if Harry was going to be hauling his ass across the country then he needed to know what kind of shit they were in for (before he got his hopes up). Not only that, Dumbledore and the Order might have given up on Harry, he wasn't sure if Voldemort ever would. More than likely he was only consolidating his power and waiting until his rule was absolute before turning to focus on killing him as painfully and permanently as possible.

It felt like his heart was going to launch itself out of his throat and take off down the street.

The sound of the man's car felt like it was vibrating in his blood, and he wasn't the only one who straightened up to hear it, like blood hounds, every hunter turned to watch the car pull in, park up, and the man step out of it. He paused only a little to see all of the attention on him but not for long, only to ascertain where _Harry_ was before he made a beeline for him – eyes locked, and ignoring everyone around him watching them.

Harry's mouth felt awfully dry all of a sudden.

Good thing he had the forethought to order a pitcher of water.

Like last time, he stopped at the table and made no move to sit until Harry kicked the chair out for him and told him to, in the back of his head, he wondered what that was about but decided it was something he would have to ask about later. They had – more important things to talk about right now.

He clasped his hands in front of him, studying the dirt under his thumbnails as he considered what to say.

“I – I want you to know that this was not an easy choice. And it wasn't one I made lightly,” he admitted slowly, looking up at the stranger from under his lashes, taking in the stoic expression and the faint lines around both his mouth and eyes, how his shoulders didn't so much as twitch at the confession, even if he swallowed, just a little. Harry looked back down. “I spent the last ten years waiting for – for people who have yet to come. And, I realised that... I can't live like that anymore.” He swallowed, eyes falling shut, “I accept your Challenge, Cor Leonis. This is my mark,” he announced before getting to his feet and turning around, shrugging out of his trenchcoat to reveal the mark he had woken up to find on his back at fifteen years old. The mark that had infuriated and frightened him. That he had equated to being branded like _cattle_ on more than one occasion. That he resented and hated and feared as a teenager seeking home. “Do you agree that it is your Match?” he asked, repeating the words that Alexandria taught him that morning.

“...This mark is my Match. I agree. My Challenge stands, and I would negotiate the terms of Pursuit with you,” Leonis announced quietly, the formal words shivering through Harry's veins as he quickly pulled his trenchcoat back up.

“I will negotiate,” he agreed, keeping his voice forcibly level as he turned to face the man, lifting his chin and glaring at him as he sat down.

Neither of them paid their audience any attention, the various hunters scattered around the Cauthess Rest Area watching with great interest and fascination as the two of them faced one another down. For all of his anxiety over bearing himself in such a vulnerable way, there was no way in hell Harry was going to fold down or subside like some meek house-pet. Opposite him, it was almost like a switch had flipped. Leonis did not seem quite so _steady_ anymore. He was still, almost too still. In that same way Harry had seen coeurls go before they attacked.

“I have three restrictions I would request,” the Hunter began, Harry nodded to show he was listening. “The first of which is that the Pursuit will not leave Lucian soil. Second, that it be deferred if someone is in need, I will not stand idly by if someone requires my help. And thirdly, that Pursuit not be actionable within populated establishments such as Kenny Crows, or motels.”

Don't leave Lucis, put the Pursuit and Trials on pause if they need to stop and help someone, and finally no chasing and fighting each other inside any buildings that people actually own and use.

“I accept these restrictions. I would request an amendment to the second? If help is needed for _each other_ , it should also be placed on pause,” Harry stated calmly, “There have been unusual daemonic and fiend activity lately, as well as rogue megitek technology left over from the war. If help is needed, even if it is evacuating a civilian from the scene, then we should help each other.”

Leonis nodded, “Agreed. I accept the amendment. What are your terms?”

Harry took a deep breath, “I have two restrictions I would request. First... no guns. They are my preference, however, they do not have a non-lethal setting, and I have no intention of causing harm to you, or any potential by-standers. And secondly....” He swallowed hard, knowing it would give far too much away of his childhood to Dave who had his _suspicions_ and was listening in but given how much he had been fighting for his life these last ten years, he couldn't take the chance of his reflexes being anything less than deadly, “Do not grab me by the neck under any circumstances.”

Dave swore, standing up so fast he kicked his chair over as he stormed off to go and calm down.

Harry blinked slowly, keeping his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes on Leonis. “These are my restrictions, and I choose them for your own safety. Can you adhere?” he asked firmly, refusing to be ashamed even as it burned hard and acid in his stomach.

“I accept these restrictions,” Leonis intoned with a firm nod of the head. “We will remain within Lucis, we will place the Pursuit on hold to assist others and each other, we will not disturb populated buildings, we will not use guns, and I will not lay hands upon your neck. These are the terms we have discussed. Do you agree?”

“I do,” Harry stated.

Leonis nodded, “For the Pursuit, the location I have selected to signify my success is Hammerhead in Leide. I have spoken with Cid Sophiar for permission and he has agreed that his garage will act as the end of Challenge. Do you consent to this?” he asked stiffly.

Cid? Leonis knew the Grinch of Hammerhead? Well. There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of Cid agreeing to be the penultimate goal of this Hunt if he disapproved of him, or Harry. It was actually a pretty good sign in his opinion.

He nodded, “I consent. The Pursuit will be considered closed if you can get me to Hammerhead.”

“When,” Leonis corrected. Unable to help himself.

Smirks and chuckles went up amongst the scattered hunters and Harry couldn't help the slow smirk that uncurled on his lips.

“...If.”

Blue eyes narrowed and the former Gryffindor leaned back in his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry: Hunt over if you can get me back to Hammerhead.  
> Cor: >8/ When.  
> Harry:  
> Harry: If. >3  
> Cor:  
> Cor: Fuck.
> 
> These two are going to be a hell of a disaster duo. I almost can't wait to actually write the Pursuit section? But at the same time, part of me is also slavering for the semi-slowburn domestic BAMF Hunter-Duo they're gunna be during the Summer Trial, and then the terrifying Investigative Crownsguard Duo they're gunna be during the Winter Trial in Insomnia. I also really, _really_ can't wait for Harry to find out that Cor has practically been adopted by the Royal Family. lmao


	3. Chapter 3

He accepted. _He accepted_.

Cor didn't realise how it would affect him to finally see his mark looking back at him from someone else's skin, but the sharp almost painful flush of want that clenched tight in his belly sent adrenaline buzzing through his veins was both everything and nothing like what he had expected. On Potter's smaller back, the tip of Kotetsu stretched up to the back of his neck, and the feathers of the wings brushed over his shoulders and arms. He wanted to touch it, but he wasn't allowed. Not yet.

He watched as the hunter reclothed himself, holding himself steady and still as he spoke the confirmation. Potter sat, and they began to negotiate what was and was not permitted during the Pursuit – and he couldn't help but be pleased when his Matched stated that they should help each other too if need be.

Less pleasing was his one personal request, and what that could signify. Do not grab his neck under any circumstances.

He ignored Auburnbrie when he exploded into furious cursing and stormed off, too focused on his Matched as he lifted his chin, mouth a grim line, refusing to be ashamed despite the fact there was nothing to be ashamed _of_. He nodded and accepted the restriction. If he ever grabbed Potter by the neck during the Pursuit then it would be his automatic fail, and Potter would be well within his rights to turn and leave without another word. He did not ask why, Potter did not volunteer why, and that was all that needed be said on the subject as they continued, going over the totality of the restrictions again to make sure they were both in agreement before he announced his chosen location. He had thought long and hard over where it should be during the three days he had been waiting for Potter's decision. Originally he had decided on Lestallum because it was the major population centre for Lucis outside of Insomnia. Now though, he concluded that Hammerhead would be a better place – Lestallum might have only had those two entrances, but that was a hindrance to himself as well. Leide was primarily flat open land which meant that if he got Potter that far and the hunter gave him the slip (which was likely, he wasn't going to put anything past his soulmate), it would be easier to spot and follow. There were three paths in and out of Leide, all three of them populated meaning a quick question would tell him which one he'd gone through and give Cor an idea of what direction he was going in. On top of that, Cid was a friend and kept a very well stocked first aid kit. They were two very dangerous men, about to engage in a very physically demanding and often somewhat violent tradition – injuries may occur and Cor would prefer to know that good medical care was waiting for them at the end.

Cid would also keep both Regis and Clarus in the loop so Cor wouldn't have to actually speak to them. God knew what would be said.

There was a flicker of surprise on Potter's face when he stated his chosen location, which only confirmed that he knew and was friendly with the grouchy mechanic, before he nodded. “I consent. The Pursuit will be considered closed if you can get me to Hammerhead.”

Indignation stung in the pit of his stomach, “When,” he corrected quickly, and probably a little too defensively if the grins and laughter that went up from the watching hunters was any indication.

Potter stared at him blankly for a moment before his eyes lidded and a slow _sly_ smirk curled on his lips, doing all sorts of dangerous things to his insides.

“...If,” Potter repeated slowly as he leaned back in his chair, lifting his chin ever so slightly as Cor narrowed his eyes, feeling that low buzz of adrenaline thread through his veins at the blatant challenge.

“....If,” he agreed at length, not bothering to fight his own smirk as it pulled at the edge of his mouth.

His fingers were tingling.

Potter rolled his head back, bearing his neck indolently as he looked at one of the other hunters. “Someone get Dave back here,” he requested lazily, one of the guys getting up with a wild grin and heading off in the direction Auburnbrie had gone behind the Kenny Crow. Cor had to clench and unclench his fist under the table so as not to give himself away or do anything stupid, eyes tracking the length of his soulmate's throat, the pale scar that stretched down from his forehead across his cheek, the fall of long dark black hair across his shoulder, the way his adam's apple moved as he drank.

Potter finished up the last of his water, ignoring Cor's eyes greedily following his every movement before he got to his feet and looked over. “As I understand it,” he mused, Tenebraean accent thickening up once more, “Now we go and gather our things and move to our starting positions, yes?”

Cor nodded and took it for the prompt it was, finishing his thus far untouched water and getting up from the table to go and fetch his sword and backpack from the car.

He spotted Auburnbrie returning with the other hunter, watching from the corner of his eye as the man made a beeline for Cor's Matched and dragged him into a bone-breaking hug that had the smaller hunter rolling his eyes and gruffly patting the man's back. It.... was honestly a little surprising. Cor was roughly a little shorter than Auburnbrie, a little broader across the shoulders, but Potter looked tiny against him and until that moment, Cor hadn't noticed. Hadn't realised that his Matched was..... _short_.

He turned away to collect Kotetsu and his backpack, it was his old army one from Basic, before he had been accepted by King Mors and given access to the Armiger. He had packed carefully and thoughtfully for this, assuming that his soulmate was likely to have him Pursue for more than just a handful of days and nights, he had packed lightly but with this in mind. Camping roll, multi-tool, pot, salt, tarp, changes of clothes, money, water bottles, water purifiers, flint-lighter, a thin blanket, map, compass, first aid kit, rope, twine, wire, and a small box of hard sweets for after. It – he wasn't sure if it was a family tradition, but he liked to think it was. His grandfather gave his grandmother hard mints that he had made himself after their Pursuit. Cor hadn't made his, he was a fair cook but he didn't know how to make sweets.

He strapped himself into his bag, and loosened Kotetsu in its sheath – there were plenty of fiends here abouts. They would no doubt run into a few during their run which was also one of the many reasons the Hunt had fallen out of favour. These days, it was considered more like a.... high-stakes game of tag that could get a little rough than an essential part of traditional soulmate interaction (which he could only be grateful to being a lowborn Lucian for – there were multiple traditions across all the countries, Tenebrae, perhaps unsurprisingly, took the Pursuit MUCH more seriously than any other country. The Lucis Caelums had to adhere strictly to the traditions laid for to them by the Astrals who would _announce_ who a Lucis Caelum's soulmate was when the Trial they had to face would be at its most difficult, and there was no option to refuse. Regis was dreading the day his soulmate would be announced as he deeply loved his wife, Aulea, but they did not have matching marks).

Potter had a smaller bag, but when Cor looked closer he also spotted a number of pouches on the belts around his waist, and a bandoleer of them across his chest so no doubt he had a lot of his smaller items and tools stored in them and the larger ones in the backpack. He also realised that.... there was a Durandal sword at his back, a pair of Oricalcum dual blades at his thighs, and a _lot_ of knives, two in his boots, a set on his belt, he could see one in a sheath at his shoulder, and what looked like two hidden on the bracers on his forearms too (were they spring loaded?).

Most of his weight seemed to be in his weapons which.... Cor did recall him mentioning that _guns_ were his preference, so he could assume most of those knives were actually for throwing. Hmm, he would have liked to face his Matched with his preferred weapon, but he supposed they could spar later once the Pursuit was over.

His heart began to speed up as the hunter tossed Auburnbrie his keys and smirked at him before turning to Cor.

The two stared at each other for a moment before he had to take a deep breath and go to the other end of the road, he could feel Potter's eyes on the back of his neck as he went, but when he glanced over he saw the hunter heading for the other end of the road. It was generally considered tradition for the Found to start the Pursuit by running in the opposite direction to the Hunter's goal, this would be no different.

One of the female hunters stepped forward, “ARE YOU IN POSITION?!!” she roared, voice carrying easily over to both of them. She looked between them, waiting for a nod or a hand gesture to confirm before raising her handgun. “MAY THE ASTRALS SMILE ON YOUR HUNT!!” she yelled a moment before firing.

Potter bolted.

Cor followed.

* * *

He.... vastly underestimated Potter.

Cor lost sight of him.

On a straight road.

...He was _fast_. The soldier laughed a little at himself, slowing to a more easily maintained jog. Potter had taken off in the direction of Perpetouss Keep, the Niflheim base, and at first while sprinting after him, Cor had been reasonably confident he could run the man down – it took a while before he realised that Potter was getting smaller. Or rather, further ahead. Much further ahead.

And now Cor couldn't see him anymore he was so far ahead.

This was going to be a lot more interesting than he had anticipated. Just running his Matched down wasn't going to work, not out here. He was going to have to track him down and ambush him, or trap him... hmm... the tipster network would be useful – when he was in the army, what few people who found their Match and obtained time off for Pursuit used the network of terrible gossips to track each other down. And the guys in charge were always eager to help, his SO always used to laugh about how it was actually old men who were really the romantics of the world.

Of course the network would only work if Potter frequented any of the towns – which was a possibility given the restriction they had to avoid Pursuit in such areas, but..... he got the feeling the man would consider his chances _better_ in the wild.

The scent of blood and the neatly decapitated corpses of three rust-red and striped voreteeth scattered at the side of the road and leading up and around in the direction of the crater behind Perpetouss more than proved his point.

He left the road, following the trail markers in the rain softened earth that indicated someone passing by. Small feet, heavy well worn boots, moving fast. No sign of struggling or slowing as he followed the signs of someone running in this direction.

There.

Potter was already moving away at a steady jog in the distance, vanishing into the tree line in the distance – leaving behind some manner of corpse in his wake. Cor headed down, wondering what kind of fiend it had been for the hunter to take the time to harvest furs from it. It was a bit hard to identify at casual glance as he passed, at least until he saw the face and realised that the _whiskers_ had been cut out as well. A coeurl.

In the middle of Pursuit, he had killed a coeurl and skinned it. Cor wasn't sure if he should be impressed that the hunter was good enough to do it, or if he should be insulted that he wasn't taking him seriously.

Well...... Cor _was_ lagging. Badly.

He left the body for the scavengers, already hearing the distant calls of hungry voreteeth as he chased his Matched into the trees, now with a few blood splatters to aid him in following his trail – straight to the tunnel that lead to Taelpar Rest Area.

Unfortunately that was where he lost the trail completely.

The blood lead to the Kenny Crow where the tipster admitted that he and Potter have a deal – his son was a tanner so when Potter brings him furs, he gets free food since the hunter is the only one that brings rare skins that aren't completely mutilated from combat. The tipster admitted that he had no idea what direction Potter went in, but advised him against poking his nose around the wilds in this area because they had a real big coeurl problem.

Cor paid the man to put notice up on the tipster network to keep an eye out for his Matched, and left the Kenny Crow – only to run into a few soldiers from the nearby Schier Heights base. The poor soldiers were scant hairs from freaking out when they saw him, thinking they were under surprise inspection, at least until Cor admitted what he was really out there doing. The two exchanged long looks before pulling their phones out.

“If you're Pursuing _Potter,_ of all pains in the neck, you're going to need back-up, sir,” Private Rowls stated as he typed up a short message.

“You know him?” he found himself asking.

“Anyone who lives out here does, sir,” Private Gaskill admitted with a shrug as he sent off his own texts, “He's a bit of a legend. Been wondering who his soulmate is for a while to be honest. He was so secretive about his mark when he was here.”

Cor frowned at them, “He was here?”

“Yes, sir,” Gaskill admitted. “Ten years ago. Back when he was bodyguarding the Lady Auburnbrie. She was on some kind of task to reinforce daemon prisons and there was one under Schier Heights in Daurell Caverns. Base Commander arrested Potter as soon as they showed up, accused him of being a Niflheim spy, chucked him in the brig. Niflheim attacked and Lady Auburnbrie got caught up in the poison weapon they were using down in the caverns, hospitalised. Base Commander tried to get Potter executed – the Royal Guard had to step in and remove him from command. It was right around then Potter found out his charge was in medical and not likely to survive. He flipped his shit and put Base Commander in a bed right next to her. He was discharged after that, unable to continue his duties. Good riddens,” Gaskill added under his breath, his phone going off before Cor lay into him for disrespect to a superior officer (even if he did not like what he was hearing about this commander). “Watch tower say he hasn't come by the base. Meaning he's either hidden somewhere around here, or headed towards Caem, sir.”

Rowls grinned and saluted him again, “We'll put word out at the other bases to keep you appraised of any sightings, sir.”

Would this count as cheating?

He shook his head in mild amusement, “Thank you Private.”

“Good luck, sir!” Gaskill saluted with a wild grin, “You'll need it. Potter fights like a daemon.”

* * *

Two days later he got a message from Rowls, a picture attachment.

The gap between tunnels on the way from Cape Caem to Malmalam, it was storming pretty hard, and Potter was completely soaked through midway through wringing his shirt out at the end of the tunnel, the lighthouse just visible in the corner of the picture. Back and mark bare to the world.

The caption with the picture read, [ _Is this yours? Otherside of the tunnel at Caem. Move quick._ ]

It would take seven-eight hours to run from Taelpar to there. He could only hope Potter wouldn't decide to go somewhere else to wait out the storm – daemons did spawn in the car tunnels even during the day if someone was travelling through them on foot.

He started running.

Thankfully only a few Ariadne spawned in the tunnels and with Kotetsu he barely had to break stride to deal with them. He hit Cape Caem, taking a moment to be grateful that it was still pouring with rain, casting a glance over to the light-house and Cid's secret holiday house, he should have made his way there to begin with in all honesty, the light-house would have given him good line of sight over quite a large space. He kept running and sped into the next tunnel.

The storm had not let up in the slightest since it drove the hunter from the haven he had been hiding on, no doubt the rising sea-level and the aggressive waves prompted him to head for higher ground. Hence why he was sheltering in the tunnel and waiting for the weather to subside.

Cor could see him in the distance and slowed his running so the sound of his boots wouldn't give him away.

The hunter was leaning against the concrete tunnel, facing away, looking out at the storm taking place overhead. Cor couldn't see an awful lot of it due to the lighting differences between the gloomy amber-lit tunnel and the outside, but he could _hear_ the distant growl of thunder and the crashing roar of waves. It must have been a really impressive sight, one he wouldn't mind viewing from the Caem house. That would be an idea actually. If he could get hold of Potter and drag him to the house, they could wait out the storm there. Undoubtedly he would have to be on top of things to prevent the hunter from sneaking out – he should have found out how he felt about restraints before they started. It was generally considered part of the Pursuit that you'd get tied up or handcuffed at least once, it only just hit him now that with Potter's background he hadn't known, and Cor of course hadn't realised.

Something to ask later.

Escorting him back to Hammerhead would be incredibly difficult if Potter was opposed to restraints. But.... he couldn't say he was opposed to keeping hands on him at all times if that turned out to be the case.

He crept closer, trusting the sound of the rain and waves would cover up any noise he personally made as he came up behind his soulmate – and immediately had to duck the knife that whistled where his head had been a split second before hand. Okay, they were playing rough right off the bat then!

He jerked Kotetsu up just in time to catch the boot Potter kicked at him, leaning into it and forcing the hunter to stagger as his own force bounced back onto him.

Private Gaskill was right, he _did_ fight like a daemon.

No formal style, no formal instruction, all instinct and experience. Aggression and unpolished skill. Cor would not be surprised if Potter had just picked up a blade one day and started hunting monsters and taken it from there, his movements were ingrained in practice and action, not training.

It did not make him any easier to fight. It made spotting openings easier, but his reflexes in covering for them when he made to take advantage were shocking. If this was how well he did without his weapon of choice, Cor couldn't wait to actually spar with him when he was, or share what he knew of swordplay, polish up the rough edges of his combat, tighten up his defence. There was a lot of potential there. But first he had to defeat Potter and get him to Hammerhead.

The fight pushed out into the rain, cold and harsh, stinging on his bare skin even as he ducked blows and smacked aside hands and feet, breathing hard, trying to follow the whirl of leather and limbs and the occasional _knife_ that was Potter.

He heard the truck long before it barrelled into view, not slowing in the slightest even as the horn sounded repeatedly, and dove at Potter, shifting himself just enough that the knife in the hunter's hand skimmed his ribs instead of going through them as he tackled the hunter to the otherside of the road as the heavy vehicle roared past – ariadne clinging to the top of it. They rolled across the wet tarmac, the sound of rifles cracking through the air and a daemon screeching.

The two scrambled to their feet, fight forgotten as there was a screech of tyres from within the tunnel.

“Well?! Hunt on pause when people need us!! Let's go!” the hunter barked at him, taking off down the tunnel after the truck without a backwards glance.

The truck had swerved hard enough to flip, and skidded down the tunnel, scraping paint and shattering glass everywhere, the ariadne was on top of the vehicle trying to get her pincers in through the opening while the people inside were shooting her with everything they had.

Potter physically _tackled_ the daemon, clothes-lined her off the vehicle with a yell.

The sound of the daemon bursting and the reek of miasma shortly followed as he skidded to a stop in front of the truck in order to help the people out.

“Everyone alright?” Potter called, circling the vehicle looking perfectly wild, soaking wet, road filth splattered up his coat and face, hair half coming out of its ponytail from their fight earlier, holding foot and a half long daggers ready as he eyed the tunnel carefully.

The two getting out of the truck were not military as Cor first assumed, they looked like farmers, and one of them was a lot younger than he first assumed. Barely seventeen, and clutching an ancient rifle to his chest like a life-line, so pale that his freckles looked _livid_ on his skin.

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks t'y'all,” the older man declared shakily, looking at Potter with undeniable familiarity, “That's th'third time ya've hauled ass an' pulled mine outta th'fire, Harry.”

Potter waved it off, “Just lucky. What were you doing driving slow enough to get spawned on?” he asked warily as he sheathed the knives and slapped the teenager on the shoulder, startling him out of his dazed trembling. The kid looked at him and then blinked, pressing his lips together and straightening up, trying to look tough.

“Saw a couple'a'fellers fightin' in th'middle a'th'road fer a start,” the older man declared with wry humour and Cor realised he was referring to them.

Potter realised as well and went a little pink, “Ah. Yeah. Sorry. I'm being Hunted,” he explained, gesturing to Cor who drew an incredulous stare from the older man and a look of such horrified dismay from the teenager that he decided the kid must have had some manner of crush on the hunter and had to swallow down his amusement. He could definitely understand why, but Potter seemed completely _oblivious_ to it, and he wasn't sure if it was genuine or wilful given the age of the freckled boy in question.

“Congratulations then. Y'all'd better give 'im hell,” the old man added with a sly grin.

Potter just smirked a little before gesturing to the truck, “Get your things together while I talk to Leonis about what our next step is. We've got maybe two hours before nightfall,” he told them before turning away and gesturing at Cor to follow him down the tunnel a little. “Do you have a way of contacting the grinch of Hammerhead? They're going to need help getting that truck righted and there's no one around these parts who can,” he explained without preamble.

“There's the military base at Schier Heights,” Cor pointed out quietly, and wasn't too surprised by the dismissive sneer it garnered.

“No one around these parts who _will_ ,” he corrected coolly before glancing to the pair as they gathered their belongings from the front of the truck. “The nearest haven is Spelcray, but that's under four inches of sea water right now.” Which explained why he vacated it. “I _could_ escort them to Taelpar, but I'm not keen on taking Carrot that far at night. Kid's been traumatised by daemons enough in his life. We could probably reach Cape Caem just after nightfall if we move quickly enough, but there's no shelter there, and in this weather the kid'll get sick.”

“There is. Shelter,” the Insomnian corrected. Regis would insist on it being used to shelter any citizens in need, he knew, just as long as they stayed away from the light-house which couldn't really be opened without the key in Cid's possession _anyway_. Potter frowned at him. “My friend owns the house next to the light-house. We hid there during the war a few times. He would pretty much insist that we use it now, especially for them,” he explained, nodding to the two civilians, watching as the older man fussed after the teenager. Both of them were very shaken up by the daemon attack. It would be better for them to get to shelter as soon as possible.

“You're sure?” Potter asked suspiciously. Cor nodded. “Alright. But if the owner comes back and flips his shit at us, you get to explain,” he grunted before turning away and heading back to the pair. “You two think we can shift this thing so it isn't taking up the whole road?” he asked, gesturing to the truck. It wasn't completely blocking the tunnel, but it was taking up enough space that getting around it would be a pain in the ass for any vehicle coming along, which in turn would put them at risk of having a daemon spawn on them.

Between the four of them they were able to shunt the truck to one side of the road, making it less of a hazard.

“We should get moving,” Cor declared, pushing his amusement to one side as Potter ruffled the kid's hair commenting on how he must have been working hard lately, he was a lot stronger than he used to be, making him go pink and bashful.

The group of four headed back towards Caem, pausing only briefly for Potter to pick up his backpack at the mouth of the other tunnel where it had been left when he and Cor started their fight earlier.

“U-uhm...” the kid stuttered, falling into step beside him, clutching his rifle tightly. Cor glanced over his shoulder to where Potter was walking with the older man who was waxing poetic about something or other, the hunter listening with half an ear and an expression of indulgent amusement. He looked back at the seventeen year old who had gone a delicate shade of pink and was looking up at him with soulful blue eyes and a kicked puppy expression. “Are you _really_ Hunting Harry?” he asked nervously. Cor nodded. The teenager looked down, “O-oh....” he murmured in something an awful lot like defeat.

Cor felt for him, he did.

He remembered his _own_ helpless crush on someone much older and more impressive than himself, he had tried not to be too obvious about it, and despite the mortification it caused him, he knew Regis had noticed and done the kindest thing he could think of in pretending not to. He still loved his King, but as a brother now.

“I won't say I'm sorry but, you'll find someone eventually. You're pretty good with that rifle, maybe when you're old enough you can go on your own Hunt,” he suggested quietly.

The teenager still looked miserable, but he did perk up a bit. “Mmn. I – ” he went pink again, glancing to Potter from the corner of his eye and then back down as he shifted his grip on his gun. “ – did you hear about the daemon attack on Saxholm about five years ago?” he asked instead of anything else.

Cor had been in Insomnia then, trying to deal with the fallout from King Mors' hunt, the end of the war, the truths and repercussions of them all coming down on their heads at once. They hadn't really had much opportunity to look at Lucis too closely, not in local terms at any rate.

He shook his head, and the teenager sighed almost longingly, stealing another look at Potter as he did so, the hunter bursting out laughing at something the old man told him, now looking offended as he swore on the Glacian's Jewels it really happened! “Saxholm doesn't have electricity or lighting like other settlements. We don't even really have a haven nearby. But the valley doesn't have a miasma build up either. The soil is still super good. Every hunter ma and pa brought in said the same thing – very little miasma, very few daemons. We hired a pair of low rank hunters to work night security in exchange for room and board and built the farm.

“Five years ago, a bunch of daemons suddenly appeared one night. They were fast and strong and there were _so many_ of them. They killed the hunters and – they snatched all the kids. _Just_ the kids. I was one of the oldest. It was – it was so scary. They just grabbed us and ran.” The seventeen year old shook his head, shuddering as he hugged his gun tightly, “They dragged us halfway across Duscae. Harry – Harry saved us. I don't know what happened, if anyone told him or if he just heard the babies crying. But he came out of _nowhere_. Guns blazing. It was amazing. He killed all of them, popped them like soap bubbles. Even the biggest one, the one that was in charge. Harry had this rifle, it was a _cannon_ and he just exploded it! One shot BAM!!” the teenager exclaimed excitedly. “He gathered us all up and took us to the nearest haven, stayed with us all night, stood guard. And then when it was day time he picked up the babies and took us all home on his truck, right back to our parents. I thought – if I got as good as him with a gun then maybe I could save people too. Maybe.... maybe return the favour.”

Ahh, hero worship. Cute.

He watched as the teenager stole another covert look at his soulmate before looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You'll take good care of him right? Because – because if you don't, I might not be as good with this as Harry, but I'll definitely – I won't _kill_ you but – you'll never see it coming,” he promised awkwardly, earnest and nervous all at once. And Cor shouldn't laugh, even though he really wanted to. It was the least threatening threat he had ever received. But he nodded solemnly all the same.

“You're a good friend to him. I'm sure he appreciates it,” he said instead, feeling Potter's eyes boring in between his shoulderblades.

The teenager looked down at his feet, “I – try to be,” he mumbled before looking up at him again, “What do _you_ do? Are you a hunter too?” he asked and Cor could feel the perk of interest from the other two as they walked a little closer.

“No. I work for the King as part of the Crownsguard in Insomnia,” he explained catching the way the teenager's eyes went wide, “I used to be part of the army though. Spent some time stationed out here in Astor Slough, spent a season in Niflheim too, up in Succarpe, before being called back. I was due to be deployed for a mission in Accordo when everything hit the fan with the King and the Emperor.”

“Whoooa....” the teenager gaped.

They passed the remainder of their walk to Caem talking about Cor's prior deployments, the teenager, Carrot, was fascinated. They only had to stop twice to deal with daemons spawning in, and if Cor showed off a little no one who knew better was around to call him on it. They reached the flood-lights of Cape Caem half an hour after sunset, the girl who usually ran the pokey little item car had packed up and gone home for the day already, so no one was around to comment as they hiked up the stone steps to the house in the rain and the wind. The lighthouse was a bit of a tourist attraction, and the road was often used by people looking to avoid the military bases further inland, there were also some good fishing spots (supposedly) along the route.

He cheated a little while rummaging in his backpack and summoned the key from the armiger to open the door, letting the two civilians and his soulmate in before closing it behind them and tugging his torch out. “I need to go and turn the generators on before we'll have any electricity. Give me a few,” he requested as he headed for the door that lead into the basement. It actually linked to the secret port, which was one of the reasons why he didn't want anyone to come with him when he went down there.

It didn't take long for him to find what he needed, thankfully the house was one of Cid's experiments into alternative energy and was hooked up to a tidal generator. So with the sea being as it currently was, they were already powered, just needed the generator to be turned on.

The sound filled the basement and someone upstairs must have heard it because a call went up to cover their eyes before the lights were flicked on.

They were quite a bedraggled and sopping wet sight, he decided with small huff of amusement as he surfaced from the basement.

Potter clicked his tongue as he stripped out of his bag and coat, the teenager making a quiet strangled noise when he saw the marking emblazoned across the hunter's back, the one that was also visible across Cor's. He wondered idly if the teenager had been still hoping that it was a mistake. Oh well.

“Unfortunately there won't be hot water for a few hours,” the soldier explained as he closed the door behind him, “But I can heat some on the stove up for you if you need. For now though, I'll dig some clothes and towels out for you to dry off.”

“Thank y'kindly,” the old man demurred gratefully.

Cor shrugged, “You'd do the same for us,” he dismissed, knowing that if they had been in the position to, they would have. Because that was what the people of Lucis were like, they helped each other if they needed it. He quickly moved to get the civilians some clothes and towels, listening to them moving through the house in amazement, commenting on how it looked so rough and poor quality on the outside but was actually super sturdy and nice inside wasn't it?

Potter found him as he was digging towels out.

“Can we talk once we've got them settled?” he asked slowly, frowning, “I have some questions about that whole clusterfuck at the end of the war and – you seem like you know more than most....”

Cor ignored the small squeeze in the pit of his stomach, “I would need permission to tell you most of it. A lot of it is classified and personal to the Royal Family.” He might be able to get permission. He would _definitely_ be able to get permission if Potter married him but – he wasn't about to say that in case it influenced him at all. There was something about the look on his face that made him think this was a little more important than he might have originally considered.

The hunter nodded, “Thank you. Also.... I'm sorry.”

He blinked.

“Your ribs,” Potter muttered, gesturing to the bloodstain on the side of his shirt where Cor had taken a blade while shoving Potter out of the way of the truck earlier. He didn't ask if it needed medical attention, for which Cor was somewhat grateful. He had been up and walking around, fighting daemons, without issue, he clearly didn't need it.

“It's fine.” Potter grimaced as if to say it wasn't, which only reminded him about what he had realised earlier. “I need to speak to you as well later. About the Hunt. A few things I don't think we went through properly.”

He frowned, “What things?”

Cor huffed in slight amusement, “Handcuffs and your feelings about them for a start.”

The absolutely pole-axed expression on the hunter's face was incredibly satisfying and amusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter. It fought me right until I brought the two civilians into it - but that could have just been because of my pain flair up. 
> 
> As for people wondering about magic and why Harry isn't using it - he's still hiding it. Until he's certain about Cor, he isn't going to breathe a word or make a hint. 
> 
> The Saxholm incident is actually canon, only, there was no Harry to swoop in and save the kids. They all 'vanished' (re: got turned into daemons). And the mother of the kids put her boots on and went looking for her baby and vanished too. Years later a daemon was reported to be luring children into Fociaugh Hallow. So Queen Sylvia, the Oracle, sealed it in there. That daemons is in fact the naga from the game that kidnaps Prompto and demands to know where her baby is. That's all that remains of the mother who went looking for her stolen child. 
> 
> As many have realised, I'll be alternating POVs every chapter. XDD;; And if you guys have ideas for shit to happen during the Pursuit, I'm all ears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Semi-graphic description of skinning an animal, Harry's depression rearing its ugly head

He left Leonis in the dust without too much effort. The road might have been uphill for a distance but it was hardly rough terrain, it was a nice flat road, and he actually carried  _ less _ weight than usual – it felt pretty much like he was  _ flying _ he was so light without the Fatal Assault.

He didn't know or understand a lot of the 'Hunt' Customs that Kimya explained to him, but he'd read a couple of the old legends on the walls of the Solheim Ruins, it was actually pretty interesting to find out how it had changed over generations. It was Doctor Yaegre who explained the nuances behind the Pursuit, how it used to be considered just the act of  _ finding _ your Matched, no need for a hunt at all, at least in Lucis. It was Tenebrae who introduced the Pursuit as they had whole week-long ceremonies and festivals dedicated to each of the Astrals and their place in life, death, and the world. For them the Pursuit was a festival where all those who wished to take part would gather at Fenestala to find their Matched and speak to each other before the first sunrise would signal the beginning of Pursuit. It rarely lasted very long, both parties were often more interested in letting themselves be caught than actually putting up a challenge. Galahd were more of a warrior culture and because of that they were determined to test their soulmates, it was from them that the Pursuit became more of a challenge, being that their culture at the time had been more tribal with a focus on hunter-gatherer and being at one with nature.

Doctor Sylvester Yaegre was a scientist he'd met as a teenager, the man had been obsessed with Solheim culture much like Besithia and had even been on the run from the man as well which was how they learned of each other's names. However, unlike Besithia, Sylvester contacted Harry via the tipster network in full nerd-mode, and the two ended up meeting for drinks in Lestallum where they probably terrified the stall owner with all their heretical talk. It was Doctor Yaegre to whom Harry sent all of his finished research for safe-keeping. The man had ended up settling down with one of the hunter ladies, Laquisha, that Harry had introduced him to during their exploration of Costlemark. They had a daughter now, Sania, who was obsessed with frogs. Harry's fault entirely when he showed her a pretty pink and gold specimen he'd found in Astor Slough. Laquisha had never forgiven him for encouraging her daughter's love of all things slimy and jumpy, and in revenge, he had been named her godfather – which meant week long holidays of hauling the now nine year old little girl through every muddy puddle he could conceive in search of toads.

He wondered how Sylvester would react to know he was being Hunted.

Probably laugh like a drain and demand he give Leonis the run of his damn life, and then lay a bet on how long it would take before he got bored and went to Hammerhead by himself. Takka would be kind enough to put word out over the tipster network to tell the swordsman to get his ass there, that the Pursuit was over. Hell, if Cid were feeling snarky enough he might go and pick him up, the Grinch loved giving Harry grief whenever he took too long to show up, and when Dave dropped his truck off and told him that he was being Pursued....

He snorted in amusement and dodged the hungry Voretooth that tried to hamstring him.

He made quick work of the voretooth pack and ditched the road, there was a haven just west of Cape Caem that had good fishing, barely any civilisation near-by, no one would think to look for him there. He figured he could probably manage a week or so before he got tired of fish and seaweed. After that he'd head for Malmalam Thicket, as a Hunter he was barred from the thicket itself due to the delicate eco-system and current long term research projects going on there, but there was a haven down at the carpark he could relax on. After that he might as well head up to Ravatogh, he hated Ravatogh but there were two havens there and one was an utter nightmare to get to because it wasn't  _ on _ a road – you had to know it was there. And if need be, he could stock up on supplies at Verinas and go stay in Pitioss Ruins for a few days.

He ducked the coeurl that pounced for his head, wristblade flashing up and splitting it from throat to groin as it passed him overhead, hitting the ground with a screech of pain right before he plunged his blade in through its eye and silenced it for good. Taelpar Rest area had a real coeurl problem, with the number of gaia toads that enjoyed the wet-lands here, they had no shortage of prey, and for some reason despite being perfectly coloured for Leide and covered in  _ camouflage _ spots, they weren't ambush predators. Eos confused him, it would always confuse him, the Astrals were fucking stupid and didn't understand how ecology worked in any discernible understandable way. They just made their monsters so strong that they didn't  _ need _ to evolve to continue their existence. Everything else, like Sania's cute frogs, had to figure it out.

He sliced off the whiskers from his kill and stood back to contemplate whether or not he'd have the time to skin it too before shrugging and deciding that since he was heading to Taelpar he might as well. Richmond would pass it onto his son and Harry would collect it next time he swung by – and if he liked Leonis well enough, he'd made something out of it for him. If he didn't, then Sania and Cindy were getting jackets like their favourite Uncle.

He worked quickly, cutting around the paws and throat, drawing lines to the belly opening, he ripped the skin from the stomach and limbs first before bracing a foot against the fiend's skull and  _ yanking _ . It wasn't too dissimilar to skinning a rabbit – which was like peeling off a really stiff and disagreeable sock, it just took a little more elbow grease. It was a little bloody but not overly. He severed the tail, keeping it with the rest of the skin and folded it all up before leaving the corpse for the scavengers and heading back to the road – he could go cross-country, over the tunnel, but that was so much more effort.

He skidded down the muddy hill lazily and easily, hitting the road at a leisurely jog and passed into the tunnel as he dug into one of the pouches at his hip, tugging his flask out and sucking down a few mouthfuls of water before stowing it away again.

Taelpar was nice when he finally found his way there, he waved to Mary at the motel, to the hunters lingering outside the Cutlass van, Lucy the girl at the item car, and headed into the Kenny Crow with his fur. Richmond was happy to take it, even happier to hear that Harry was being Pursued officially now – word was already out about Kote being a liar and a Mismatch. Not wanting to deal with the gossip that would follow  _ that  _ revelation, he quickly moved on, leaving Taelpar and heading towards Caem.

He dealt with a few daemons on his way there, he made a point of taking out any that he encountered these days. The magic surrounding them was greatly diminished, and if he had to guess, he didn't think they were capable of their normal forms of reproduction. They were dying out. Which made him very suspicious because it started years ago, right around the time that clusterfuck with the Astrals and Messengers kicked off. When he met with Shiva and Leviathan themselves. When he scorched the Vesperpool down to bedrock.

Thankfully no one knew what had really happened there, he'd told them that the Vault beneath Steyliff had opened, and it had – he'd opened it, and killed everything inside, years before after Kimya ditched him. He had been angry and concluded that if neither he nor she had been around to reinforce them then they would have burst open and released all the daemons inside, which would have killed everyone. And since it had been literally centuries since a Lucis Caelum bothered with them, chances were they'd forgotten the existence of the doors – someone had to deal with them. It might as well be him, he  _ was _ a Daemon Specialist. So far, Steyliff, Fociaugh, and Greyshire Grotto had been dealt with, which as far as he knew left Costlemark, Daurell, and three more he had yet to find.

He stopped at Cape Caem and purchased a few ingredients from Megan's car, seasonings and other little bits and bobs so that he wasn't going to be stuck with  _ just _ fish for the next few days. Then he headed down to Spelcray Haven for a holiday spent sunbathing, fishing, and writing up his latest observations regarding Solheim ruins and magitek integration.

* * *

The storm was expected but inconvenient, it woke him up in the worst possible way and forced him to flee Spelcray or risk being washed away by the tides. He was completely soaked through by the time he reached the tunnel to Cape Caem. Shivering unhappily in his sodden shirt he dumped his bag and coat and stripped out of it, shaking it out and twisting it between his hands, wringing it out.

Wolf whistles and jeers erupted from a passing army truck but he paid them no mind as he stabbed a knife into a crack of the tunnel and draped his shirt on it before digging out a dry one from his bag. After that he used a little fire elemancy that he'd absorbed from the haven to dry it all out. His coat was going to smell a little salty but that was fine, it had been covered in worse and he knew a great washer up in Astor Slough who could get rid of any smell and stain in existence. Even flan ooze hadn't slowed her down much.

He stayed in the mouth of the tunnel, squatting down and finishing up a few more pages of his research before he noticed the wind picking up and the waves getting a lot more aggressive outside. He stowed his research and got to his feet, moving to the mouth of the tunnel proper to get a look at the waves.

Ten years on Eos and he still wondered if the oceans of Earth were just as bad, or if they were worse.

For all of her temper, Leviathan was pretty lazy afterall. She was content to be left alone and nap and wanted nothing to do with humanity, she only spoke to him at her sister's urging, her oceans were surprisingly timid and calm. Bismark was impressive, but Harry had been a shark-kid where as Dudley had been a dinosaur-kid, the ocean was a scary place and Harry had loved stories about giant squids, megalodon sharks, whales, and orcas. The undersea vents, the red algae tide, volcanos, brine pools that killed anything unfortunate enough to fall in them,  _ angler fish _ and piranha and mantis shrimp and moray eels. Earth had terrifying oceans from what he remembered, but he didn't know about the waves or the weather or the storms that battered the coasts, he'd never seen them save that one time when they hid within that miserable shack on the best day of his life.

He paused, thoughts jerked sharply sideways when the wind howling through the tunnel up his back brought with it a distinctly familiar sour smell – human body odour.

Someone was trying to sneak up behind him.

The knife was out and swinging between one breath and the next. Too many Kill Stealers, Niffs, and drunk hunters wanting to steal his cards, tags, and gun had snuck up on him and he wasn't about to go on good faith after so many times. But… It was only Leonis.

About time he caught up, Harry decided baring his teeth in a grin as he mule-kicked the man to get some space, only to find himself being bounced back instead. He was strong.

Time to see if he was any good with that sword.

Yes. Yes he was. Harry wasn't often one for fighting people. MTs and humanoid daemons didn't really count, they had set attack patterns and not enough intelligence to deviate from them, only the very oldest daemons could, and he'd dealt with them already. Leonis was  _ definitely _ skilled with that sword, if he had been aiming to kill, Harry was pretty sure he would have a serious problem on his hands, it shouldn't have been as exciting as it was, but this guy actually knew how to fucking  _ fight! _

The number of times Harry had to cover himself in order to prevent his coat from getting more holes was more than anything had managed on him since the hunt for Ayakashi in Duscae. Then again, dealing with Leonis was more difficult because he didn't have his guns and wasn't actually trying to kill him.

And then Leonis lunged at him,  _ into _ the knife in his hand. Thankfully he was able to twist his torso and Harry was able to move the knife so it didn't stab into him but they hit the wet ground hard, jarring Harry's knee and elbow as they rolled to the side and a truck barrelled past with its screaming occupants and a daemon on top of it.

Little Carrot Saxholm and old man Ason Saxholm. He dealt with the daemon and went to go and see if the two were alright, mentally thankful that they were okay. Carrot was a little shaken, but trying to hide it as he gripped his rifle tight and glanced at him for reassurance. Harry made sure to keep himself as loose and languid as possible, if he smiled a little more freely and laughed a little harder at Ason's shitty jokes, it was all to make sure the kid knew it was safe and he was comfortable. If your hunter escort got squirrelly then it would only increase tensions, and daemons were drawn to fear like Dementors were to happiness.

He didn't really buy that Leonis knew the guy who owned the shack next to Cape Caem but, hell, the sooner they got Carrot and Ason out of the rain and warmed up the better. His magic prevented him from getting anything but the worst strains of flu, but other people didn't have that benefit, and he'd heard enough comments about running around in the rain, going out with wet hair, etc, to know that people here were really concerned with catching colds. It seemed as though the Eosian natives didn't have particularly robust immune systems.

He heard Carrot threatening the Hunter if he mistreated him, which was sweet, and he knew he was going to have to deal with a lot of that from his friends before this was over. It didn't seem to matter what his rank was, how many daemons he slayed, the size of his gun, people looked at his height and baby face and unanimously decided he needed protecting. At least emotionally. It would have been annoying if he hadn't been touched. Still, he could see the swordsman's amusement and glared at him, if he laughed at Carrot, Harry was dumping him in the ocean – from the top of the lighthouse.

“ You're a good friend to him. I'm sure he appreciates it,” his Hunter stated solemnly and Harry relaxed a little, grunting slightly as Ason slapped his back in amusement and grinned at him. Alright, he'd give the man some plus points for being nice to Carrot.

“ I – I try to be,” the teenager mumbled, abashed as he looked down and hugged his rifle tightly. “What do  _ you _ do? Are you a hunter too?” he asked, making Harry perk up a little because he had been wondering as well but figured he'd have to wait until the Pursuit was over to ask his questions. As far as Harry was considering this whole thing it was a kind of violent game of tag where they tried to see what each other were capable of in a combat sense – which given the monster and daemon situation of Eos made a lot of sense if he ignored everything about Earth culture he had been raised with.

“ No. I work for the King as part of the Crownsguard in Insomnia,” Leonis explained and Harry straightened up in surprise. His soulmate was Insomnian? That was quite a distance, and a number of passport check-points, to travel just to find  _ him _ . “I used to be part of the army though. Spent some time stationed out here in Astor Slough, spent a season in Niflheim too, up in Succarpe, before being called back.” Huh, which meant he was at least  _ vaguely _ familiar with the terrain here, and yet he'd still lost him on a straight road? Disappointing. “I was due to be deployed for a mission in Accordo when everything hit the fan with the King and the Emperor.”

“ Whoooa...” Carrot gasped, staring goggle eyed at the much larger man.

Harry meanwhile was stuck on the realisation that he was  _ Insomnian _ , part of the  _ Crownsguard _ , and was highly enough ranked to go on that mission to  _ Accordo _ . The very mission that was supposed to be spearheaded by the Prince of Lucis, a team of only five individuals,  _ the Grinch _ being one of them. Leonis wasn't just an average run of the mill Crownsguard soldier. He sucked irritably on his teeth, he wished he'd paid more attention to the war gossip now. If he gave it further thought, weren't soulmates supposed to be equals? If Leonis was his equal, loathe as he was to admit it, his name should be well known.

He might even know what happened with the Astrals at the end of the war if he were close to the Prince of Lucis.

He grimaced in annoyance, jarred from his thoughts as Ariadne spawned overhead. They didn’t last long, and everyone reached Cape Caem without so much as a scratch - which, and he wasn’t one for bragging, was more a testament to skill than luck. Though luck would always play a factor when dealing with daemons. Leonis was a damn good fighter. Maybe he wouldn’t be deadweight in the year they were supposed to work together out here, the Winter Trial? Or was the first one the Summer Trial? He couldn’t remember. 

The house at Caem was ugly on the outside, but he could tell as soon as he stepped in, just by the feel of the floorboards, the change in the temperature and humidity, this was a good house. Then Leonis vanished into the basement to get the generators turned on, as soon as the lightswitch was flipped, it became quite obvious that this house only  _ looked _ bad on the outside, inside it was simple but fine craftsmanship, not ostentatious but the kind that you  _ could tell _ cost upwards of hundreds of thousands of gil.

But it had  _ also _ not been used in years, and smelt like it. He clicked it tongue and stripped out of his soaking wet clothes, moving deeper into the building hopefully in search of a stove for hot water and a fireplace to get them all warmed up and their belongings dried. If there was no kind of clothes horse then he had plenty of twine to string up a washing line.

“Unfortunately there won’t be hot water for a few hours. But I can heat some on the stove for you if you need. For now though, I’ll dig some clothes and towels out for you to dry off,” he heard his soulmate offer to the old man.

“Thank y’kindly.”

“You’d do the same for us,” he dismissed and Harry had to press his lips down to hide a smile, opinion of the man rising a little. Insomnians were a mixed bag, he’d met lovely men and women from the army, and the Royal Guard, even a few relief/charity workers who were trying to help fleeing refugees, but there were also the  _ assholes _ like the Commander of Schier Heights base back when he was a teenager. He was far from the first or last Insomnian to shove a gun in his face or try something violent to him. It was nice that his soulmate wasn’t one of them and knew a little of the culture out here. 

There was a log fireplace in one of the guest rooms and a nice stack of wood next to it. Only two double-beds though. Unless someone felt like freezing, they were going to have to get a little friendly. He sighed a little, another thing to add to his conversation with Leonis later, laying down some ground rules about bedsharing since he wasn’t enough of an asshole to inflict Carrot’s crush on sharing with him, and he wasn’t about to expect the teenager to feel comfortable sharing with a complete stranger either.

He could hear Ason and Carrot heating up a large pan of water for them to wash and warm up with, which meant the footsteps and rustling in the other room was Leonis.

He paused a split-second before knocking on the doorframe, taking a moment to watch his soulmate as he dug a couple of towels and blankets out for them all. He had never actually looked all that much at his mark, hating it for so long, but… it was quite nice he decided now that he was getting a decent look at it without straining his neck. A long silver katana, identical to the one his soulmate had been wielding earlier, a set of silvery white wings that reminded him of a snitch’s, and a golden star. Sylvester had theorised that all soulmarks comprised of three aspects and symbolisms, one aspect to symbolise each individual, and a final aspect to symbolise their relationship. Leonis was clearly the sword, but was Harry the wings or the star? He was liable to think himself as the wings purely because of his love of flight and past as a Seeker, but neither of those things applied to him now. Did that mean he was the star? His magic was light, and since coming here if he used it raw, without attempting to mould it into a spell, it was a gold and white light. Regardless of which one, it was a hopeful symbolism, good. But as hopeful as he was, he wasn’t  _ quite _ willing to trust it wholeheartedly just yet.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Astrals but he was lonely.

Harry shook the thought off harshly, knocking on the doorframe to get Leonis’ attention before his brain turned down dark and maudlin paths that infuriated and depressed him, made him want to cry or break something. “Can we talk once we’ve got them settled?” he asked as the blue eyed man straightened and looked at him. Fuck, in this lighting he looked like he was made of  _ gold _ . Brown hair turned amber-gold in the old lighting, sweat-dry tanned skin glittering gold with reflected light, blood a dark black stain on his grey shirt. Harry kept their eyes firmly locked, “I have some questions about that whole clusterfuck at the end of the war and - you seem like you know more than most…” 

When two goddesses approach you, and then  _ other _ shit goes down, plus the whole total eclipse thing, the sudden explosion of light and magic, and the  _ sharp _ decline of all daemonic influence? He wanted answers.

Leonis’ eyes flickered in the light for all of a heartbeat before he faced Harry completely, giving him his full attention. “I would need permission to tell you most of it. A lot of it is classified and personal to the Royal Family.”

Sounded about right. Bahamut  _ had _ wanted him to kill a King.

Harry nodded, “Thank you. Also… I’m sorry.” The black stain wasn’t large, but it existed and it was there because Harry was careless with his weapon. Leonis blinked at him, slow and confused. “Your ribs,” he elaborated, gesturing to the stain. It was dark and dry so had clearly stopped bleeding, even so, the offer to heal it sat on the tip of his tongue, only to be swallowed down. Not yet. Not until he trusted him. Just travelling with Kimya and making his knowledge of Latin known had him chased by the Empire, he didn’t want to add Lucis to the list just for having magic.

“It’s fine,” Leonis dismissed before pausing as he made to turn back to gathering towels, “I need to speak to you as well later. About the Hunt.” Harry blinked at him. “A few things I don’t think we went through properly,” he admitted with something a little like humour colouring his tone. Was that…  _ almost _ a smile?

“What things?” he asked suspiciously.

Leonis definitely huffed on a laugh, gathering up the towels he had withdrawn from the cupboard. “Handcuffs and your feelings about them for a start.”

Harry gaped at him in confusion. What.  _ What? _

What the hell kind of - oh.

Yeah. Catching was just one aspect of the Pursuit, he still had to  _ get _ Harry to Hammerhead afterwards, and doing so while having to fight of fiends too. A pretty interesting way of finding out if your partner was capable of defending you if you couldn’t defend yourself while travelling. Harry hummed thoughtfully. In all honesty, he had never been restrained with handcuffs before, no one out here really had them to be honest. Rope was more common. Rope, belts, silk curtain cords… 

“Never played with handcuffs before,” Harry admitted after a bit of thought before turning away, “But restraints are fine. Fun even,” he added with a grin, “Just avoid the neck.” Though, there had been that time when someone collared him with a belt and  _ that _ hadn’t triggered him at all. Perhaps it was literally just  _ hands _ on his neck that bothered him, no one who had bitten or kissed him there had set him off either.

Then again, it had been so long that - 

Nope. He sighed, already feeling his mood plummet and stalked down the stairs, “How’s the kitchen situation looking?” he asked, keeping his voice calm and gentle for Carrot who was fretting over a cupboard.

“Not good. A couple of dried seasonings and a few preserves but that’s it. I wouldn’t trust the canned meat though, no telling how long its been here, the labels have all faded away,” he complained unhappily, “Should have grabbed a box out of the truck,” he muttered glancing at his grandfather who only smiled and shook his head.

“Better t’get here safely than risk our necks, an’ theirs’, fer a lil’bit a’comfert,” he chastised gently.

Harry nodded, “Get a pan heated, I’ve got some stuff in my bag, help yourself. I’ll be back in a few,” he declared, shrugging back into his wet coat without so much as a grimace as the cold wet leather went over his skin again. He’d worn worse, at least he had yet to take his boots off, those he was going to have to leave in front of the fire tonight.

He didn’t wait for anyone to comment further before he left the house, turning his face away from the harsh wind and lashing rain as he headed back down the path. Caem didn’t have many daemons, too removed from people, aside from the tunnels and the road, there was little point on daemons hunting around here, they were unlikely to find anyone. However, on the cliff-edge there were usually a bunch of shieldshears, giant crabs, scuttling around. They weren’t amazing eating, but it was better than nothing, just one of them would be a large enough meal for all four of them if he turned it into a curry, he should still have some saxholm rice in his bag, not to mention some of the smoked fish he caught the other day. He could make fried seafood rice, that might go down easier with Carrot than a curry.

He didn’t bother with a light as he went out, trusting his magic to keep him aware of his surroundings as he slipped through the darkness, neatly decapitating an imp that leapt out from the rocks without incident before he found what he was looking for. The only difficulty would be in getting it back to the house when he’d finished flipping it onto its back and ramming his blade between the hard protective shell right at the eye-stalk.

Still, it was satisfying to hear the exclamation of excitement when he got the door open and dropped it into the porch with a huff.

“Can someone grab me a towel? Before I flood the place,” he requested, having to physically wring his hair out as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. Fuck it was storming hard out there. He hadn’t anticipated it being this bad otherwise he would have pushed onto Malmalam first thing.

“Here,” Leonis muttered, appearing with a large towel and half-a smile, “You look like a drowned cat,” he teased, dropping it on top of him.

“Made all the more apt by dragging a dead animal home,” the former Gryffindor quipped, not about to be insulted over being compared to a feline as he began to wrestle himself out of his coat.

“Looks like we won’t be eating spam tonight, Carrot,” Ason teased, making Harry laugh when he heard the teenager squawk in offence at being called out. “Let me take that. I’ll handle the cooking, you get yourself warmed up before you catch your death of cold,” the old man declared, fussily pushing Harry into his soulmate before calling his grandson over to help him with the shieldshear.

Leonis wasted absolutely no time in beginning to towel his hair dry at the unspoken command.

“Ah, hey! Wait! My glasses!” the hunter protested, blindly elbowing him away and retreating, “Also, I don’t think this is going to do an awful lot for me right now,” he admitted, lifting the already sodden towel from his head as he gestured to the rest of himself. Still dripping into the porch.

Leonis looked him up and down, making his stomach twist pleasantly before he nearly flushed in embarrassment. Thankfully it was far too cold and his blood wanted to stay firmly away from the chilled surface of his face.

“Come on, there’s hot water in the bathroom still. I’ll get you a change of clothes,” the Insomnian told him smiling a little and leading the way.

The bathroom in question was a wet room. Harry hadn’t seen one of these outside Hollywood movies back on  _ Earth _ , they were for  _ rich people _ and really expensive hotels! But, there was a gently steaming bucket of hot water, some soaps and a fresh cloth. Harry was  _ not _ about to protest the sudden lavishness of his circumstances, even if he did feel a sudden curl of concern because… who exactly owned this place, and how were they going to react to having a dirty hunter, a random Insomnian, and two farmers spend the night here? Messing up their bathroom, their towels, their spare room, and their kitchen?

He shoved the thought aside and focused on getting out of his sopping wet clothes. 

By the time he was finished, the house smelt amazing. There was a change of clothes waiting for him in a basket outside the bathroom that he inspected briefly with some bewilderment. He’d never seen black clothing on Eos before. He’d wondered if there was some kind of cultural taboo about it until he saw all the Royal Guard and the Crownsguard wearing it and then just assumed it was a military thing - kind of like how most people didn’t wear army-issue camo back in England, and if they did, they were often looked at rather strangely. The military weren’t worshipped in England the way the Americans did, it was actually pretty rare to see people in uniform unless you were from a city that had a military base near-by, though you would sometimes see military vehicles with men in uniform going down the motorway. Dudley would always shove his face up against the window with excitement whenever they passed them, but he would be the first one to complain about Poppy Day and having the Veterans’ parades and what not. He got in trouble with the school once for throwing conkers at an old man he recognised from the parade once, it was the first AND last time Harry had ever seen Uncle Vernon shout at his son.

Ason had made up a seafood and rice kimchi soup for them, it was delicious and made up for the fact that they didn’t have any drinks to go with the meal.

“We’ve had the fire going in the bedroom since you left, it should be nice and warm in there by the time we turn in,” Ason told them as Leonis and Harry finished washing and drying the empty dishes and cooking pots to be put away the next morning, Carrot yawning with his head down on the table, just about ready to sleep there. 

Harry chuckled, “Best we have an early night then. There’s still a walk between here and Taelpar, and then we’ll have to wait for Hammerhead to arrive,” he said, glancing to the Insomnian to make sure he was okay with that idea. His eyes flickered to the near naked relief on Carrot’s face before he nodded to him.

“Are y’all okay t’share a bed though?” Ason asked, peering at them both. Specifically at Harry. “Never known yeh t’get close t’anyone, an’ those nightmares a’yers...” he trailed off apologetically but honestly.

He grimaced a little, “I don’t get them with people near-by. It’s fine.” It was one of the reasons he actually let himself fall into bed with someone to begin with, he realised that he didn’t have the nightmares if there was someone sleeping near-by or next to him. But with Kimya gone, and both he and Dave only meeting up once in a blue moon, it wasn’t like he had other options. So yeah. Occasionally he would have a one-night stand just to ensure he had a decent night’s sleep, and to deal with the gnawing touch starvation that still sometimes let his bones vibrating like they had  _ teeth _ .

Ason nodded slowly, no doubt he remembered the one time Harry had slept in their hayloft and woke the whole farm screaming like he was being stabbed - because in his dream he was. Quirrelmort had turned into a daemon halfway through his nightmare of his first year and not only was choking him but ramming a large sword through his gut and telling him about how he ruined everything he touched. He was poison and everything he loved would rot between his fingers. He punched Carrot's father when the man tried to wake him, knocked a tooth loose and _almost_ broke his nose, but thankfully didn't.

He took a breath and shoved the memory aside. “Trust me, sleeping in the same room as other people is an unusual enough occurrence that the nightmares don’t come,” he promised, catching the way the older man’s eyes flickered to Leonis and pressing his annoyance down when he realised he brought it up specifically to make Leonis aware that Harry was a mindfuck. Great, thanks.

They went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry. Depression is a bastard (I would say its a cunt but it lacks the warmth and the depth).


End file.
